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Saturday, May 18, 2013

Gas Law's Activities

Last Wednesday, my Chem class was doing a lab experiment involving gas laws, but when my teacher handed out the instructions, there was a glaring apostrophe error smack dab in the middle of the title. I groaned and scribbled the apostrophe out with my pen. However, later on, my lab partner Pat speculated that maybe the worksheet was talking about the actual activities of a person named Gas Law. He then proceeded to draw "Gas Law, Private Eye". I then countered with a drawing of "Miss Charlie Boyle," whose "voluptuous volume made the room grow warmer".

You can probably guess where this is headed.

But wait! There's more! In the style of Garrison Keillor's "Guy Noir," I decided to record myself reciting this story and put some snazzy noir music in the background. You can listen to that recording below and read the actual text of the story under the cut.Character “Gas Law” created by Pat O'Connor; special thanks to Mrs. Martin for the chemistry, Mr. Morisseau for the “Maximum Entropy” name, and whoever misplaced an apostrophe in “Gas Laws Activities”.

Gas
Law's Activities

The
name's Law. Gas Law. I'm a private eye. Usually one with a lot of
clients. But this winter was cold as a single-digit kelvin and dark
as the black of space. Nobody wanted to venture out and get
condensed—or worse, solidified.
So my business was losing steam, fast. The phone in the office had
been gathering dust for weeks. The only things I'd gained recently
were more electrons; it became increasingly difficult to stay
positive. Suddenly, with a burst of fresh nitrogen and oxygen, a
sultry dame stepped through my office door.

She
was solid, all right—particles all packed tight into her A-line
dress—and pretty as hellium, though probably just as troublesome as
she was gorgeous. I knew right away I couldn't trust her. This was
Charlie Boyle, high society's 79-proton girl. If there was one thing
she wasn't,
it was a noble gas.

“Whoa,
baby, no need to turn on the pressure,” I said, shrinking a bit but
resolute to retain my suavity. “Just give me the details and I'll
take the case.”

“Take”?
Had I said “take”? I had meant to say “consider.” Oh,
shilicon.

Charlie
smirked. “Wonderful.” She leaned forward, blowing smoke into my
face from her combusting cigarette. “It's about the Maximum
Entropy,” she said. “Practically no one knows this, but he's
escaped from prison and is starting to experiment again, on a massive
scale.”

My
eyes narrowed. “How massive?”

“Some
of my colleagues have speculated that this unusually frigid winter is
all a part of his grand scheme to reach absolute zero.”

It
took a moment to process this. Finally, I spoke, as calmly as I
could. “Don't worry, darling. That bastarium will have to answer to
the law. The Gas
Law.”

Charlie
raised an eyebrow and let the silence serve as her admonishment for
the incredibly lame pun.

“...I'll
keep you updated when I get more info,” I added.

In
retrospect, I realize I was making some pretty serious mistakes here.
Cabin fever had gotten to me. I was preoccupied with the thought of
spreading my particles and getting out of this dust bowl of an
office. I hadn't thought this through. I didn't realize the gravity
of the situation until too late—until this cold front turned into a
Cold War.